“What the blazes?” the baron shouted. “Who are you?” He rose to his feet and grabbed his sword. “What are you doing here?”
Marco reached down to where his own sword was in the pile of his discarded clothing, and pulled it free. “Leave her along!” he shouted.
“Put your sword down and walk into the bedroom,” Marco ordered. “Ellersbine, get dressed, and we’ll get out of here.”
The baron responded by lunging at Marco, his sword a heavier, longer blade than Marco held. Marco’s enchanted blade responded by twisting his body out of the way of the attack, then brought Marco’s blade down sharply, biting deeply into the tendons on Crassten’s arm.
The baron bellowed in pain and dropped his weapon.
“Now, silently, leave the room,” Marco advanced at him with his sword held in a ready-to-attack position.
The baron looked at Marco with hatred in his eyes, then slowly stepped backwards, his hand clutching his wound.
“Gilbert! Beck!” he bellowed loudly as he got to doorway. He kicked the door closed before Marco could reach it.
“Marco,” Ellersbine said in a small voice. “What are you going to do, Marco? Are you going to be okay?”
“I’m fine. We’re both going to be fine. Just get dressed, and we’ll be safe, I promise,” he said as he heard her splash out of the tub.
“Marco, my clothes are out in the bedroom, out there where he is,” she said in a small voice.
“That’s no problem,” Marco said. He heard the door from the bedroom to the hallway open, and suspected that the baron’s supporters had arrived.
“Marco?” Ellersbine voice questioned.
“Yes?” he said without turning to face her. He placed his hand on the door handle, ready to open it.
“I just wanted you to know that you’ve got a cute tush,” Ellersbine giggled, and Marco realized for the first time that he was still naked.
“Here,” the princess swung a pair of pants over his shoulder, and he hastily pulled them on.
He opened the door a crack, and looked out to the see the red-faced baron, along with three other men, all holding swords.
“Let us leave the castle safely and no one will be hurt,” Marco shouted.
“I’m already hurt, and you and the girl are going to pay for it,” the baron roared.
Without hesitation, Marco pointed his left hand at the man on the baron’s left, and willed his power to act.
A bright flash left the man and flew to Marco’s hand, as the man collapsed, dead.
Marco threw the door open and flipped his sword from his right hand to his left, then shot a bolt of energy with his right hand at the guard who stood closest to the door, taking the life of that man as well.
“Sorcery!” the baron screamed in terror.
“Now, you two slowly step outside the door and wait for me out there,” Marco ordered them in a low, controlled voice. “Move!” he shouted as they stood still, frozen in place.
The two backed away, as Marco kept his right hand in the air, pointing it alternately at one or the other.
“Ellersbine, get dressed, and bring my things to me,” Marco called over his shoulder, as he followed his two captives out into the hallway.
The three men stood in the hallway, just a few feet separating them, as Marco waited for the princess to appear.
“You like the girl? You can have her,” the baron spoke, recollecting his wits. “I’ll give her to you. I could use someone like you on my payroll.”
“Here I am Marco,” a gentle voice called behind Marco. “And here are your things; the boots still stink.”
Marco hastily pulled his boots on, and asked Ellersbine to strap his sword belt around his hips. He put the sword in the scabbard, then pulled one sleeve of his shirt on, then the other, and as he tried to hastily pull his shirt up over his head, the Baron’s henchman dove at him. Marco fell backwards into Ellersbine, and the three of them rolled together in a tangle on the floor.
Marco ripped his shirt free, saw that his attacker was on his right, and rolled over as he raised his left hand and pointed it at the man, causing another blaze of energy. The man gasped momentarily, then collapsed.
The Baron was running down the hallway, shouting for help as he went. Marco aimed at him as well, then raised his right hand and released a bright shot of energy at the brutal nobleman, striking him in the back, and sending him sprawling forward to lie still in the hallway.
“Are you okay?” Marco asked Ellersbine, twisting around to see her sitting on the floor.
"What will we do?" she asked. "You killed the baron!"
"We'll leave," Marco said simply. He took her hand and led her back to the servant’s staircase, then they slipped inside, unseen, and rapidly descended the steps until they reached the main floor of the castle. They stood and listened for any sound from the other side of the doorway, which had been so boisterous when Marco had passed it on the way up. There were only a few murmurs coming through the door.
"We'll walk out calmly like nothing’s wrong," Marco said. "Can you find the way to the main gate from here?"
"I think so," Ellersbine answered uncertainly. "I've not been out of my room very much since Argen left me here."
Marco squeezed her hand, then opened the door, and they stepped out into a large banquet room. Maids were on ladders snuffing out the candles in the wall sconces, and a pair of apparently inebriated courtiers were sitting at one table talking to one another. Marco reached around and circled his arm around Ellersbine’s shoulders.
"Hide your face so they don't recognize you," he whispered.
"And here I thought you were just being affectionate," she giggled nervously.
They paced sedately through the banquet hall and came to the wide open doors that led to the rest of the castle's space.
"Turn right," Marco heard her whisper, and their steps moved in that direction.
"There's a courtyard ahead and then the gate," Ellersbine advised.
They reached the door to the courtyard just as there was a loud shout from a window overhead. "Close the gates! The baron has been murdered!"
Marco and Ellersbine watched in annoyed disbelief as the guards at the gate pulled them shut.
"What now, Marco?" Ellersbine asked.
"We're getting out of here no matter what," Marco answered. "Stand behind me and place your arms around my waist," he told her. "Just stay with me and don't let go."
As she moved into position, Marco focused his concentration on the power in his hand, and a glowing nimbus flared up around them, protecting them from attack as Marco led the way across the yard to the gates. Marco felt the princess tremble, he hoped not from any loss of the life force he shared with her. Shouts sounded from the guards at the gate as well as from scattered windows above, and then an arrow struck the shield and bounced away.
The guards at the gate valiantly raised their swords in the face of the approaching apparition, but Marco engaged them in swordplay that quickly left both of them injured. With the guards out of the way, Marco moved to open the gates when a burst of sorcerer’s energy glanced off the side of his shield and struck the wooden gate, blasting a sizeable hole in the structure. Marco and Ellersbine were knocked aside by the strike but not harmed.
Marco turned to look at the windows from which the sorcerer had thrown his attack.
"Thanks for the help!" he taunted the man, as he helped Ellersbine climb through the new opening, and then followed her out.
"You did it! Just like that. Again!” Ellersbine was ecstatic.
"We're not quite safe yet," Marco advised her. He looked up at the bright moon that had risen, casting its illumination across the land. They would be easy to follow. "Let's go this way," he grabbed her hand and pulled her immediately off the roadway, into hiding in the weeds and tall grass nearby.
They traveled cautiously for the next two hours as Marco led them in a circle around the castle and then back down to the city. They traveled as quickl
y as Ellersbine could manage, and reached the city as the moon passed its zenith overhead.
"We're almost safe," he reassured Ellersbine as they entered the dark quarter of the city. He heard, then spotted, a raucous tavern, and still holding the hand of a princess, he led her into the dive.
Chapter 28
All eyes turned to see what newcomer was entering the sanctuary of the tavern so late at night, and the man who was singing a song while strumming a lute struck a discordant note.
"We just want a place to sit in peace," Marco called loudly in the language of Prester John's people.
A few faces looked relaxed at the use of the approved language.
"We're getting ready to close soon," A man behind the bar said.
It was already time to play his ace up the sleeve, Marco realized.
"Before you do, could you call my friends from the peat burners," he asked, seeing the stares of surprise. "Tell them I came back with what I wanted," he smiled over at Ellersbine, "and I did what they asked."
"Have a seat over there," the barkeeper told him, as he surreptitiously nodded to a man at the bar, who slid off his stool and slipped out the back door.
Two mugs of ale," Marco ordered as he led his companion over to their designated table.
"You speak the banished language!" Ellersbine whispered loudly at him in astonishment.
"Here," Marco raised his left hand to her face. "Take a sip of water from the spring. It'll make you feel better after all we've been through."
Her face grew mischievous as she followed his direction.
"Here," she said as she finished drinking the refreshing water; she placed her lips against his and shared some of the water with him. “We have to keep up the appearances of lovers. That's what they think we are, don't they?" she asked, after their lips slightly parted.
"I am starting to think the same thing too," he told her as their lips returned to being lightly pressed against one another's.
Just then the man from behind the bar placed two heavy mugs on their table. Marco opened his purse and pulled out two coins, then handed them to the man, who smiled kindly and walked away.
"How do you speak the banished language?" Ellersbine repeated her question.
"I had lessons," Marco answered vaguely.
"I don't know who you are. And I'll never guess correctly, will I?" she asked.
Marco raised his mug in a toast. "You won't guess much, but if you guess that I'm in love with you, you'll be right," he said. Having been reunited, he was intoxicated with his proximity to her, and the feelings of affection that flowed so strongly back and forth through the energy bond that only they could see.
"Here's to love," he said, as they clicked their mugs and the musician resumed playing his tunes.
"What is this?" Ellersbine asked in a strained voice as she lowered her mug after taking a sip.
"It's ale, bad ale," Marco answered. "But I am pretty sure they don't have any wine you'd approve of either, my dear."
Just then the door to the tavern opened again, four men walked in, and Marco recognized two of them as his guides to the castle. They looked at the bartender, as the musician lowered his volume. The bartender silently nodded over at Marco, and the men looked over.
One of them gave a nod, and the musician raised his volume again as the newcomers strode over and sat down with Marco and Ellersbine.
"So this is what you went to the castle to fetch?" one man asked.
"This is she," Marco agreed. "And I ended up doing what you wanted," he said. "We'd like sanctuary for the night and help getting out of town."
"That's a big claim," one of the other men said as he'd gave Marco a hard stare.
In response, Marco wove his fingers with Ellersbine’s, then made the two hands glow, and he slowly made the glow rise up both their arms to their bodies, as the tavern interior brightened and the music faltered.
"We don't need to see any tricks," the man in charge said. "I believe him," he spoke with a finality that sealed protection for the two fugitives.
"My mother's got a spare room you can sleep in tonight," he stood up. "It's only got one bed, but I don't think you'll mind, will you?"
"Not at all," Ellersbine answered quickly as she stood up.
"Are you going to leave that ale?" one of the men asked Ellersbine.
"I'll leave it to you," she answered.
Marco extinguished the glow that had silenced the tavern.
“You can have mine too,” Marco added to the good will by donating his mug of ale. He and Ellersbine held hands as they followed the leader of the peat burners out of the tavern and back onto the street.
“My name is Dale,” the man said as they started walking through the dark.
“I’m Marco, and this is Ellersbine,” Marco said.
“Names from the prophecies,” Dale laughed. “Very good. Discretion is advisable, I understand.”
The comment silenced Marco, who did not translate it for Ellersbine. Would Iasco’s original people have the same prophecies that Lady had referred to, he wondered.
They turned just then from the dark road onto a narrower alleyway, and Dale knocked on a door softly, then entered.
“Do your magic and make one finger glow,” he softly told Marco. “Ma’s asleep and I don’t want to stumble over anything and wake her up.”
With Marco providing the illumination, they went back a hallway, and Dale opened a door. “This is your room; you’ll be safe here. Ma will fix a good breakfast in the morning, and then we’ll talk about getting you out of the city.” He watched them enter, then pulled the door shut. There was a narrow bed and a table and the bare floor.
And after a while, they went to sleep.
Chapter 29
Marco woke up first in the dark room, and wondered what time it was. There was no window in the room to tell him if the sun had risen, though he suspected it had. He and Ellersbine had talked late into the evening, as he confessed bit by bit the story of his life that had made him a sorcerer and brought him to the place where their paths had crossed.
“You killed Iago and Iamblichus?” Ellersbine had asked, one of only two things that had sparked a reaction. “They were two of the four greatest sorcerers in my great-grandfather’s court. They were thought to be invincible.”
The other point that had raised her attention was his marriage to Mirra. “I’m sure a princess can have any man she chooses for her husband,” Ellersbine had declared. “Don’t worry about that.” But Marco had worried anyway, still vaguely aware that he loved Mirra, despite the growing power of the enchantment and life-energy that tied him to Ellersbine.
After he awoke, he silently slid out of the bed and pulled on clothes, then opened the door and slipped into the hallway.
There was sun light that penetrated down the hallway from the front of the house. There were also scraping noises, and the odor of frying foods. Intrigued and famished, Marco padded down the hall in his bare feet, and saw that there was a small kitchen to his left, and a woman with her back turned to him who was cooking something in a pan over a brazier.
"I didn’t expect to see anyone from that room up so early," the cook said without turning around.
"Are you Dale's mother?" Marco asked.
Standing in this kitchen, now who else would I be?" she asked in a jolly tone. "The boy hasn't offered to hire a cook for me.
"Sit down and I’ll have a plate for you in just a bit, or you can go back and bring your friend out as well," she told him.
Marco took a seat at the table. "I imagine she'd like to sleep a little more," he replied.
"You're a wise and thoughtful man, so you are," Dale's mother answered. Her spatula deftly slipped a serving of her cooked goods onto a plate, and then she turned around to place the meal in front of Marco.
Even though he was hungry, and even though the meal smelled delicious, Marco paid no attention to it as it sat before him; instead he simply stared at the woman, a woman who had a face th
at was as familiar to him as his own mother's.
"Lady Iasco?" he asked in astonishment. "Lady Iasco, how did you get here?" he asked the small woman with the intricate stripes across her face.
The woman burst out laughing. "You look so serious!" she laughed, and patted him on the arm. "Dale brought me a joker, I see. And so if I'm Lady Iasco, then who are you, Marco?” She turned back to her kitchen.
Marco felt a heavy presence in the room, a sense of destiny stepping into play. "I am Marco. I am the Golden Hand, and my companion is Ellersbine.
"What do the prophecies say about us?" he asked. "Tell me your name, your true name.” His voice was quiet.
She turned around again to look at him. She stared at his hand, and then his face. "You're telling the truth, aren't you?" she asked.
"I'm not Iasco; my name is Gwen. Why do you ask about the prophecies?" she asked.
"You look just like the Lady," he said.
"I'm pure-blood of the old race," she told him, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"What is the prophecy?" Marco asked intently.
"That you'll go to Foulata – you, Ellersbine, Iasco, and one other – and of the lot of you, one will die, one will live, and one will do neither, if you win the great combat," she told him. "Lord, you're giving me the chills, you look so serious."
"Does the prophecy say whether we'll win or lose?" Marco asked, as he felt goose bumps rise on the back of his neck.
"Either is possible," she told him. "And we'll either have a better place, or a permanent night," she hastily stirred her pan as she smelled its contents start to burn.
"And what happens to us if we lose?" Marco asked.
"Your souls will be tormented for a hundred thousand years," she said solemnly.
Marco heard the bedroom door open again.
"Nor a word of this to her," he hissed.
"Not from me," Gwen agreed. And don't you go telling our people your names either," she warned him.
He nodded, as Ellersbine entered the room in a state of disheveled beauty.
Marco stared at her, wondering if he could truly take her to a place where she could be drawn into an unthinkable fate. And yet he knew that Lady Iasco was depending on him, and that there was an opportunity for success of some type, though even victory apparently meant the death of someone he loved, or of himself.
The Southern Trail (Book 4) Page 27
